


Ghost on ghost

by sinkinghearts



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, SanSan Week, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinkinghearts/pseuds/sinkinghearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her hair hangs over him like a veil, tickling his face and shoulders and the rest of the world seems to fall away, like it's just him and her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost on ghost

It fascinates him, how her fiery hair spills down over her shoulders, like waves of an ocean. How it shimmers, almost like tiny sparks igniting whenever he runs his fingers through it.

 

It seems that she likes his hair as well, although fuck knows why.

 

She weaves her fingers through it, nails scraping his scalp and a grunt escapes him.

 

With her hand at the back of his head she gives a firm tug and his head tilts back.

 

His gaze darkens but she just smiles, a knowing look in her eyes before brushing her nose and lips along his throat.

 

He lets his hands travel along her sides, feeling the rhythmic pattern of her ribs and goes further down. Eventually he halts, admiring the way his hand perfectly fits into the dip of her waist.

 

He isn’t used to touching someone this way. No one has ever simply let him.

 

The only way he touches people is with an extension of steel in his hand.

 

Yes, there had been quick and rough tumbles in the dark, but that was just for seeking a quick release, a sweet moment of bliss. And most of the time they were one sided.

 

Leaning over him, he can now feel his cock press against the soft skin of her belly but he bites his tongue and focuses on the touch of her hands instead.

 

Her hair hangs over him like a veil, tickling his face and shoulders and the rest of the world seems to fall away, like it’s just him and her. The way he wants it to be.

 

She always starts with his face, tracing every line, every twist of skin with both of her hands.

 

The surface of his body is massive, his scars plentiful and it takes a long time until she caressed every inch of him. At the end he is always painfully hard.

 

He can feel the hairs on his chest catch as she drags her teeth along his body. Near his navel she adds her tongue, and the contrast of the cool air against his wet skin make the abdominal muscles clench.

 

Inches from his cock she stops and he hears her soft laugh as he futilely thrusts his hips into the air.

 

He desperately wants to kiss her, and once again his hand finds his way into her hair, urging her closer.

 

Mouth close to hers, he hesitates and she knows and angles her head slightly, giving him better access, reassuring him.

 

She responds fervently to the clumsy strokes of his tongue.

 

After some time she breaks the kiss, both of them panting, foreheads resting against each other, breath mingling. Softly, she pushes against his shoulder and lets her hand glide down as her body follows the movement.

 

She delves between his legs, hair obscuring her face and sprawling across his thighs. He jolts as she takes him into her hand and closing his eyes, he concentrates on the feeling of her thumb rubbing that sensitive spot at the underside. He can feel her breath, soft lips nearly touching him – but it is not enough. He wants to look at her and reaches forward to brush away the auburn strands from her face.

When he opens his eyes, he finds himself with his own hand around his cock.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for SanSan week on Tumblr, prompt 'Hair'.


End file.
